


A Leash for An Existence

by ErisedKnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad at tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, no beta we die like everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisedKnight/pseuds/ErisedKnight
Summary: Due to Durselys being Durselys. Harry was abandoned where he never knew of his name or his title as "The boy who lived". His magic carried him somewhere to the past in the 30's where Grindelwald adopted him. Hence, he fashioned himself with a new name: Hannibal Grindelwald. A name bestowed from his "father". Learning the ways of the world under the tutelage of Grindelwald.TLDR: Unconcious!Time travel Harry where he was influenced with a Dark Lord and soon to be Dark Lord. Featuring well meaning Albus.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. The Death of "The Boy"

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> P/S- Don't be shocked if one day the title changed. HAHAHAHAHAHA.  
> No beta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't need to be a phoenix to emerge anew. All he need is a person to pull him out of the ashes.

_A freak._

_Boy._

_Cousin?_

None of them sounded right.

He just knew it. They didn't sound right. They sounded abysmal. Maybe some syllables were missing or maybe the tone they used was wrong or maybe they were all wrong altogether. Whatever they were-

He just _knew_ it.

It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t control his freakishness. Nobody in the Dursley’s household could ever understand… his abnormality. They said it was an abnormality and living in this house without any second opinion didn't make it better. His aunt Petunia had sent him to the church for exorcism on multiple occasions. Even though they weren't as religious.

Belief considered as a subjective matter but trust him he did try. He had prayed. Every Sunday, he went diligently to the nearest church but none seemed to listen to him. Plus, the leering from everybody's eyes were getting him one way or another. He was only four. What could he possibly know? The Dursleys already labeled him as insolent brat to everybody's eyes. They made sure of it. 

_The heaven above was not his saviour indeed._

Maybe just, maybe, the incident where he levitated Dudley’s train broke the last thread of whatever their tolerance on him. Everyone was getting ready for an outing and for the first time in his 4 miserable years of life, they brought him along. Everything felt- different. It felt as if there was something that he couldn’t comprehend at this moment yet it felt so near to him. When they brought him to a dingy alley, they told him to wait. Then they got into the car and sped up. Leaving him alone in the midst of nowhere. The boy could only leaned on the wall and sat on his buttocks where he tried to make himself as small as possible, praying to any deity, anything or anyone to whisk him away. He prayed hard enough and his magic _listened_.

It sent him back to a time where it knew he was needed. Even if the year was plagued with wars, in the 30’s. Year where everything was in chaos and nothing seemed right anymore but there might be a solace came for the boy. Maybe in this time he would be appreciated. Anything but the same treatment from his hell hole.

* * *

Gellert was on his daily stroll to survey his enemy and it was also a healthy thing to do when he saw a child in an alley, crying into his knees making him a ball of sadness. His sobbing didn’t stop even as his footsteps got closer. He stopped beside the child just to see the emerald eyes turned and bore into his own.

The child sobs got quieter but he didn’t dare to make any move in front of the infamous war lord. This silence bothered him a bit but he could feel that this boy was magical. His magic was heavy for a child on his age. He might need to convert this child to his cause, _for the greater good_.

‘What are you doing here my child?’ Gellert asked.

The boy took a few gasps of air before he answered breathily and stuttered, scared of an unknown ‘T- The-They to-told m-me… to wait… I don’t kn-kno-know when they wou-would come bac-k…’ His eyes started to water as he replied yet not a single tear passed through his blasted eyes.

Gellert smirked a little from his answer and he knew better that the boy would be better under his wings. More reason to bring the boy with him. ‘I think they’ve left you forever…’ the boy’s eyes widened from his statement and a heavy sigh came through his nose like he already predicted this outcome. This boy was so open and vulnerable. So… so... easy to read, might as well to train. He was so delighted in his idea. Gellert had never thought of an heir or an apprentice. He might be needing one. This one was so perfect. The boy who was abandoned because of- because of what? What if he was a petulant child? He needed an answer. He threaded carefully ‘Why your parents left you here?’

‘…I have no… parents. They told me that they died in a car- car crash… Maybe…May-Maybe… they sent me here because I accidentally levitated Dudley’s new set of train. I promise not to be a freak next time…’ then he sobbed again.

Gellert felt anger. He saw red. Another magical child abandoned because those muggles vermin! Perfect! This child was perfect! He was exactly everything he wanted at this moment. A child where he was abandoned from those unspeakable vermin and magically powerful. He must have this boy.

‘They won’t come back for you my child. Do you want to come with me? What’s your name?' it might sound cold to any passerby who listened but it was only a moment of introduction to both parties that might take this to a next step. A relationship where nobody could understand because of the current events. A relationship where everybody thought Grindelwald could never have.

‘You will take me? I- I- don’t have a name… They called m-me boy... But I’m pretty sure that isn’t my name...’ Those pale cheeks tinged slightly red like he was ashamed of not having a name. And yes he was definitely ashamed of himself.

A name. A single name. Those vermin even denied him a name! Curse those eyesores. Well, he was at war in the first place because of them of course. ‘What about Hannibal Grindelwald? Would you want that name? Come with me and that name shall be yours.’

An offer that anybody in their right mind would never take it... but not this boy. A name brought power. A name symbolised individuality. Without it, you were just a ghost with flesh. Hell, even ghosts had their own name. You would be nothing. That wasn't acceptable.

A bright smile blossomed from those lips, the boy immediately nodded fervently. He even muttered under his breath the name that he just had been bestowed. Just for a name and the boy was his.

Gellert offered his hand and the boy, no- Hannibal took it. With a loud pop crack both figures had gone from the view. Leaving the dingy alley undisturbed.

If anyone had ever dared to tell Gellert that one day he would take a son. He might laugh in amusement but today wasn't the day.

Today was the day where Gellert Grindelwald had a child and his name was Hannibal Grindelwald. Anybody who tried to take the boy shall perish.

Grindelwald's name shall live on through this boy called Hannibal. Living up to his name like a general by his side, his most trusted. He'd teach him magic and guide him to the right way where he knew best.

For the greater good.

The boy looked up to see his saviour face in earnest. He felt so happy and secured. Hannibal Grindelwald sounded right. It rang better than Dudley's. It even sounded greater than "boy".

Boy had long live his overdue welcome in his head. He must die for Hannibal to take over and live.

He just _knew_ it.


	2. Blood Couldn't Stop Grindelwald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to live, one must learns how to adapt or else die. For Hannibal, an everlasting shackle is a small price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywayyy enjoy! All characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm just one of those who play in the castle of her imagination.
> 
> P/S: Constructive criticism is very much welcomed. There's a difference between being rude and giving constructive stuff. I have no beta.

Living as Hannibal came with a price. Nothing that he couldn't pay but still a price nonetheless.

Becoming the best among the best that was a requirement. Nothing settled at mediocrity. Although his father had never explicitly spoken about such term, Hannibal just knew it instinctively. Nobody would put up with an underachieved son where the parental figure was legendary. Terrible deed yet legendary. He strived for the best. He had to. The feeling of becoming an unknown once again overwhelmed him so much. It shook his entire being. Hannibal would never be casted away.

He wasn't a broken toy.

It had been two years since the event of his becoming. Two years of being "Hannibal Grindelwald" instead of a hollow pathetic creation called "Boy". Plus, two years of constant training nonstop. His father was everything for him. For him he was a father, a role model, a teacher and a leader. Even though they weren't related by blood. Just that one fact left a bitter aftertaste in his bud, he felt awful. 

Not to mention that it had also been two years since his first introduction with magic. His father had shown him the might of magic and the horror of how no-maj could impose on their kind. They were special. Since the beginning, he was special. He was so much more than no-maj like Dursleys. Fuck them. Fuck those vermin. They worth nothing more than insects under his boots.

Everyday, Hannibal trained himself. He read, he studied and he practised. His greatest achievement as of late was that he managed to read and study worth of four years education at Durmstrang. His entire education curriculum based on that institution, due to the reason that his father was an alumni though expelled at 16. His father didn't want to elaborate much but he did say that it was an unjust verdict and he believed him.

Durmstrang never forbade dark arts thus he never shied away from that branch of magic. The usage of it wasn't even considered as a crime: his father was a war lord (dark lord), this kind of deed worth nothing. Plus, one day... he would assist his father on his endeavour to salvage the wizarding world from vermin known as no-maj.

They would triumph over them.

'Hannibal my beloved son, have you finished your studies?' An ever familiar voice interrupted his train of thought, his saviour.

It felt a little bit embarrassing now that he was caught reminiscing the past. 'Just a little bit more father, I promise that I won't leave behind the schedule. Everything is according to your plan.' He knew better than to be left behind, a lesson he often taught for himself once or twice or many times? He lost count. Never would he thwart his father's plan for him was a constant mindset. His father looked very pleased with his answer and approached him by the study table just to sit in his usual chair beside him. The look he gave was calculating. Hannibal wondered what bothered him so. But if his father didn't want to share or hide something from him, there must be something that he shouldn't bother to know. After all, his father was a wise man.

'My dear son, do you want to take money from my vault one day?-' His father asked. What kind of question was that? It seemed so vague, unfinished and random. That was why he couldn't help from offering an incredulous look on his face. His facial expression must have contorted in some weird manner. His face had betrayed him out of shock. Now, not only his father grinned like mad but also showed an amused look. In short, Hannibal was scared. Nothing good came when his father behaved in such manner. It also felt as if his father tried to imply that he wanted him for something as insignificant like money.

Gellert tapped his chin with a contemplating look as if Hannibal was a puzzle to be deciphered. For Hannibal, his father was a no stranger, all he needed to do was ask. Certainly Hannibal would give his best. 'Ah! It seems like I have a very good son. You don't see money as appealing then- hurm... what about we become a family then?-'

Hannibal lost in thought for a while. 'Were they not a family since the day he gave him a name?' he thought.

Crossing both arms in front of his chest his father spoke sternly, 'Don't mistaken me Hannibal. You're my child in every sense except in blood. Here, I want to remedy that. We could become a family in blood and all and nobody would notice anything amiss. One look at you and everybody know that you're my son.' 

His ears perked up at such an amazing offer. More than amazing even, it just astonishing! Only fools would reject such offer from his benevolent father. Anything for his newfound caretaker. Anything. Even his life. Hannibal's green eyes brightened, doubled the usual emerald intensity.

'You're very please with that arrangement. Can see that from those striking eyes.' His father snickered. 'Mind you that this is an experimental procedure. Are you sure about this?'

More than anything.

'Yes, father. I'm sure about it. When can we start?' His giddiness slipped into his question. This euphoric feeling couldn't be hidden. 6 years old in age but this matter couldn't be pushed aside. Now or never, no hesitation. It must be done as soon as possible.

'Whenever I'm free? I will dedicate some time for you, my son. You know best how busy the war can get.' His father extracted himself from his usual seat and left him with a sense of immeasurable amount of happiness.

If anyone asked, nobody could say no to Gellert Grindelwald. He was a very intelligent and determined man, he would definitely try his hardest to achieve whatever he wanted. Nothing could stray him away. Now, he wanted Hannibal to be his son. Truly. He wouldn't be denied.

Some days had passed since the last conversation and today would mark the day Gellert acquire a son. Blood and all other tedious stuff. Honestly, he wasn't as ecstatic as Hannibal in this matter but he was hopeful at best. If things went downhill in this ritual, at least Hannibal would die painlessly. According to his past experiments, the participant would feel like their whole body burning then came the adaptation to the new blood. If it wasn't a match their body would reject the blood. Instant death, just like sleeping. They didn't feel anything. The burning might be one of the reason they were so apt with pain but Gellert didn't give a single damn about it.

Hannibal knew what he wanted, who was he to deny such want? Well, if Hannibal was worthy of his blood then he would survive and be his son. If not, he'd die. Gellert very much preferred to do this only once in his entire lifetime.

This was an exception. A delightful one.

Such potential from a child with absolute devotion deserved his attention and award. His soon to be son approached him quietly. Sneaky. Good as a spy. Once again, speaking of potential.

'Come Hannibal, my son. Lay in the middle of this circle. Take off your robes and leave only what you deem necessary.' He gestured the way to the circle he drew with delicate efforts and adorned with countless complicated runes. Hannibal took off everything except for his undergarment and lied down obediently. Gellert spared one last look on his son before he would be fighting for his survival of changing genetics. Then he took a potion, special ink and a dagger, main keys for the ritual success. 

Those bright emerald eyes, those were the symbol of a fighter and a survivor that always caught his interest. Sometimes they twinkled and Merlin knew they reminded him of a distant someone in his past.

'I would miss your eyes. How they sometimes twinkle.'

'Then please keep them father, if they please you so.' Such devotion worthy of his blood.

'I can make no promises on such premise. However, don't you think blond hair suit you just fine?' Gellert chuckled lowly while petting his son raven hair for the last time.

A big smile graced his son facial. Always so open and easy to read.

The ritual began. He lightly pricked his thumb just enough to draw blood. Carving letter by letter with his blood on his son's small body. From his forehead to his feet. A few droplets of blood dropped into the potion and Hannibal drank it.

That potion tasted horrible with a tang of metallic taste. Another price to pay to become Hannibal.

Hannibal coughed a little bit from the iron taste. Everything worked out fine. The only thing left was the chant then the runes would activate by themselves. Then everything completed, only for Hannibal to survive in the next part. After the incantation, Gellert's would have done his part. There was no head start given for the boy to tell him the amount of pain awaited him after his father had finished casting the spell. 

Not even his mighty elder wand could save him. Only pure determination and compatibility.

The boy writhed in pain. Trashing from left to right like a worm on fire. Well, he definitely felt like being burnt alive... so, yeah. He held his own neck as if he was about to choke himself to death. It was a painful experience for Hannibal. On the other hand, Gellert was very much invested on seeing the whole process since this was his experiment but a knock from the front door disturbed his watchful eyes.

He would love to stay but winning the war waited for no one though he didn't forget to leave a short note for his absence included with apology of course. Grindelwald had manners.

When he took his stride away from Hannibal, the once raven hair had strands of blond, replacing the once dominant original colour.

Obviously Hannibal would survive. No son of Gellert Grindelwald would fail him spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession:  
> Well, I'll definitely try my best to not to give up on this becauuuuse I finally have plans for this story! Some future chapters are already in blocks. They aren't perfect but welps. My ass is still finding any jobs but corona doesn't make it any better, fuck.


	3. Meet, Greet and Apparate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horace is a good friend. And everyone else owes Albus many answers. Bugger that damn colour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, I'm so excited for today's chapter. I hope you feel the same!! All characters belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> P/S: Unbetaed. Please inform me if there's any error. Any constructive criticism is always welcomed!!!  
> Read the end note if you want to read my rant.

It wasn't a surprise when Horace Slughorn, his friend and colleague, invited him for tea. Not unusual, but predictable if you were taking current event into account. The said man must be the first to know news. Since Dumbledore knew this streak of his friend, he just simply learnt on how to accept it and he rather fond of most of his friends. Coincidentally, Horace was one of them.

Rumours these days circulated that the Ministry thought that Dumbledore still befriended with Gellert Grindelwald. So, if one would apply their logical thinking, if there was any new news about the wanted man, Dumbledore supposed be the first to know, didn't it? Though in the light of truth, he and the man had long dissolved their friendship ties, only leaving behind their blood pact, which he had yet destroyed, and residue of unresolved feelings. Nothing else worth mentioning. For now.

'Have you heard Albus?' Slughorn chimed grimly. One hand drummed on today's Daily Prophet while the other hand holding a cup of tea.

'Heard about what? You've got to be specific, Horace. News travels too fast these days. I don't even remember the last time someone has ever complimented my wardrobe collections.'

Yes. Everyone would be blind if they hadn't noticed how Dumbledore's choice of fashion spiralled down rather comically. They were horrifying to see. There were theories between the masses which they deduced; one, he had gone nutter or two, his entire wardrobe was cursed to be bright and sparkling.

Nobody knew anything and nobody dared to ask. They pretended that those sparkles and mismatched colours had blinded them. Such faux pas shouldn't be allowed to exist but Dumbledore just had to be the man to do it. 

Mouth agape, Slughorn couldn't refute on the statement because only Morgana knew just what exactly going on in this man's head. 'Well Albus, it seems you've missed the train on the latest rumour going on among us.' Slughorn's facial expression wrinkled slightly as if it was trying to prompt a reaction from the blank one on Dumbledore's face. After a while, he just gave up. 'THE RUMOUR, Albus! There's only one hot cauldron being heated up right now.' Still, no response. 'Dear Merlin, two can play the game. I'll give you a hint that may trigger your exceptional memory. A son. No, make it two hints. Grindelwald's.'

A pregnant pause swooped into the whole conversation. Dumbledore blinked his eyes rather abnormally. Horace knew that wasn't a natural response but it was a response nonetheless albeit a funny one.

'What do you mean Horace? I don't really follow.'

Oh Salazar, please help him. 

'Albus, I know you're a busy man who teaches for living though need I to remind you that we're on Easter holiday. Very busy indeed.' A hint of sarcasm dripped in but Dumbledore just smiled. 'Yes, yes. I'm aware that the Ministry kept perusing your back and Scammander's but that doesn't excuse you from not listening to any hearsay! Some might sound dodgy but news still remained news regardless of its authenticity. OR read the papers.' Something might have snapped in whatever camels back Slughorn had with Dumbledore new way of taking things lightly. Too lightly, he thought.

Sometimes it felt like the man in front of him was preparing himself for a big bang at the finale thus he wanted to take it slow. Collecting feelings or bravery, one might say. Typical Gryffindors.

He didn't know what else to talk or think about to his friend . The man just giggled at him. The gall he had! If Slughorn were a lesser man, he'd definitely curse 'Fucking hell Albus! This isn't a bloody joke!' but he was better than that. He was a Slughorn and a proud Slytherin, he wouldn't stoop so low.

Dumbledore was still giggling like he just heard the greatest joke in the world. He brought the teacup to his mouth before speaking 'Indulge me then.'

Fine. Albus might have lost his mind, he silently concluded in his head. 'Sure. A few weeks ago, I received a letter from a friend. Mind you that her husband works as an auror. Not going to speak the name but she wrote that the infamous Gellert Grindelwald had a son. Well, obviously I had my own doubts but today's papers just proved me wrong.' He pushed the papers across the table lightly, not wanting it to fall off the table.

The twinkling eyes behind the spectacles twinkled. What else would they do if not twinkling? Slowly Dumbledore read the main column and a blurry image of a person from afar under the headline, **"The Dark Lord's Spawn?''** didn't make it any better. The title might be as atrocious as ever courtesy from The Daily Prophet but the message was well delivered: a new chess piece had entered the game. People would panic. Just who would try to bear an heir for that person? Oh Godric, he needed to meet Newt as soon as possible.

'It seems that our meeting need to be cut short. I'm sorry Horace.' Dumbledore immediately excused himself. Slughorn just simply nodded and continued drinking his tea. He was glad enough that his friend had listened to him. Now he felt one problem gone from his shoulders. Next, he still had to think about his student, Tom.

On his way out from the office, Dumbledore kept thinking. Newt owed him an explanation for keeping him in the dark. At least, wrote him a letter on any development. That very evening, he apparated from Hogwarts to somewhere in United States. A very flabbergasted magizoologist greeted him at the first sight. Newt Scammander, his ex-student and these past few years, a friend.

'Is it true Newt?'

Newt looked concerned, 'Depends on which news you're looking fo-'

'Grindelwald,' Dumbledore said sternly. The same tone he used on his student.

This wasn't how he wished to present himself but he was a desperate man.

'Yes professor- I mean, Albus. Merlin, yes. If you're referring to that son of his.' Newt palmed his forehead with a sigh on his lips. Everyone knew how Newt was easily troubled and this didn't make it any easier. 'He's been giving us headache since his starts to become active. Some major but mostly just minor stuff. But you know how little things can easily affect this. The escape of those Alliance people few days ago was his.'

'What about the mother?'

'No idea. Sorry. Though the boy is lacking here and there but it's still an impressive feat for someone his age. We don't know his exact age but he may be around 13 to 15 years old. His build seems to fit the criteria.' Newt added, he looked down on the road, thinking deeply. Slow breath exhaled from Dumbledore shakily but he knew he needed to calm Newt first.

War took a lot from people especially those who fought in it. Honestly, he didn't know how much longer this war would go. The year had already turned 1942, yet the end of this horror still remained obscure. To be honest, Dumbledore was tired of this and now a new wild card had appeared. Godric knew what else would come out. Newt graciously extended his invitation to his resident. Tina, Newt and the muggle named Jacob stayed together in a modest flat in New York. In other people's eyes, this kind of scenario would stir revolt in their deepest belly. Of course it would, since their eyes were so entrenched with disgust against muggles. Now out of all time, he didn't want to claim that he was innocent from that sin considering his faulty past. Where Gellert's ideas inflamed him so much and- let's just save it for another time. Wounds weren't meant to stay bleeding if you didn't scratch it again.

Tina was so sweet, she welcomed him and treated him like an esteemed guest even when he was under different ministry. Her eyes looked a bit tired perhaps with recent cases that involved with the man he once bared his heart to. But today's visit wasn't a social call. He had questions to ask and info to collect. Everyone seemed to understand his thoughtful expression, even Jacob could read it. All gathered at the dining table at once.

Tina started first 'Our closest intel in The Alliance told us that the son wasn't new. Oh they were just lucky to actually see him til an unidentified acolyte forced them to make unbreakable vow from spreading the word. We have gotten some bits of info but that kid burnt the papers. PAPERS.' A fist slammed on the table with quite a force that startled everyone. It belonged to Jacob. He looked very frustrated and tired too. Newt patted his back while Tina was coaxing him.

That was... random. 'What happened?' Dumbledore asked.

Newt pinched his nose bridge, both eyes closed tightly. He spoke lowly, 'ICW agreed to make use of the boy once captured.' Tina smiled tightly.

Make use? What did they mean? The boy was only a teenager under Gellert's influence. They couldn't just possibly ask him to fight for them and not to mention on his loyalty.

Tina instantly said 'No no no. It isn't like what you're thinking about. Stop. We still possess our humanity, okay? Just, you know... I mean, Jacob isn't happy because the boy will be used to extract information and as a bargaining chip for any possible treaty. Jacob isn't quite happy with that, considering... the boy is a Grindelwald...' The room temperature cascaded a few degrees. It felt a tad cold. Again, war could be proven on its detrimental affect on human minds. The boy was a thorn yet it felt wrong to punish him in his father's crime. Fine, he was involved somehow but he was still underage.

'Albus, I wouldn't be surprised if he enrolled in Hogwarts,' Newt broke the pause.

Even he didn't notice how the conversation was already on pause. 'Then I suppose that I'll stay at school to help out from the inside.' Wait, he felt like he missed something. 'Care to elaborate? Why Hogwarts? What's the bargaining chip part?' He laced both of his hands on the table. This was a teenager's life they were talking about. After all, before anything else, Albus Dumbledore was a teacher first and foremost.

'Um... well, first we'll- I mean, they'll take any data then bargain for any treaty since majority in Europe and U.S already suffer enough but... BUT! If let's just say, IF Grindelwald refuses the offer than we have no other choice but to keep the boy. Both Europe except for Britain and U.S aren't the safest place right now. So, the only viable choice is Britain.' At the end of Tina's explanation, Jacob rubbed his eyes, Newt kept pinching his nose bridge and Tina herself was restless. Everyone was worried on the outcome of this trade.

They hoped Gellert would settle with a treaty but Dumbledore knew better than that. There wouldn't be such a thing. They talked some more for a few hours, mainly updating any old information then he left the flat. He was speechless. Not a single thought form on his head except for one 'what is Gellert thinking? Bringing a child into a war.'

On a second thought, it also made sense. Anything for the greater good.

A sentence that connected and separated them in a whatever cosmic joke the world was playing. Fate was rolling its dice on them all. Wild card, sure. Just put it out from the sight first, that was all they needed to do.

Chill passed behind him, he sensed discomfort. Eyes seemed to be watching him from afar. He could feel it. But where?

He deliberately didn't apparate home right away instead he took a stroll while pinpointing the gazes boring on him. It didn't take long for him to do just that. Amateur, he thought. He apparated behind the culprit for his unease leisurely. Another crack sound blessed the surrounding. Someone apparated and left this person alone. His sudden presence alerted the small figure in front of him. Their back flinched, knowing they were exposed. They had no choice but to face him.

A teenager?

He wanted to get straight to the point but the with the image in front of him betrayed his focus. Under the moonlight, the blond hair sparkled elegantly. Oh, he _knew_ the exact hue of this colour intimately. Once, it was between his fingers when he tiptoed just to ruffle the impeccable hair in the sun. However, this person wasn't the one whose hair was ruffled. The papers didn't exaggerate. Anyone who had seen would instantly know, who he was or rather who he belonged to. 

Without thinking, he said the name carelessly; it sat there at the tip of his tongue, always. 'Gellert...'

The boy narrowed his eyes to him, analysing. Then he smirked. 'It's always a pleasure to be associated with my father's name. But I suppose, I don't have the delight to know yours.' Added up with a wink flirtatiously. 

A tease. Just like that person.

Not only they shared some good genes but he also inherited his father's mischievous side. 'Albus,' he replied nonchalantly to the boy. 'Nice to meet you... _boy_.' 

The teenager flinched at his endearment. Interesting. What else could he learn from this meeting?

'Preferably you can call me... Hannibal. Gellert is father's. But sorry to disappoint you, I'm. not. Boy.' His eyes shone. 

Green, not blue. Those eyes lit quite passionately just for his introduction though the green was slightly muted. Sadly, the son didn't manage to inherit Gellert's unique eyes. Always so blue like the ocean they once promised to go together.

'That's a nice name. But Hannibal isn't quite Germanic, is it?' A chuckle slipped from Dumbledore's traitorous lips. On the other hand, blond hair did suit on those muted green eyes. Now that he realised this fact, he didn't know what to do with it except acknowledging that Gellert's son was a bit of a looker himself.

_Just whose green did they belong to?_

The boy was ignorant on having himself being observed or he didn't care. 'Phoenician, if you're being oddly specific. Ask my father for further-' the boy giggled, '-inquiries,' he continued. As if he was a maiden being courted, he batted his fair eyelashes. They were golden underneath the moonlight. 

Pretty sure that was meant to be a joke but honestly Dumbledore wasn't entertained by it. In a tad of snappish tone, he said 'You might want to conceal that hair of yours. It's rather... infamous. You've failed if you're aiming to be discreet.' It was blatantly obvious that this boy was on a lookout mission. One must be with the shadow if they were on this type of task and Hannibal's hair didn't make it easy. His eye-catching hair thwarted his attempt.

Hannibal's jaw clenched, clearly offended with the mention of his failure.

'Teenage pride,' he thought offhandedly.

'Point... _taken_. I'll remedy it next time,'

'How do you know there'll be next time? I can just take you straight to the authority. Don't forget that you're spying an auror's house and your ride ditch you.' Aggravating the person you wanted to apprehend was never in his 101 on how to be convincing but, there was just something about the boy that brought him unidentified feelings.

Like he knew him from afar yet he was sure that this was the first meeting. Fate really loved playing dice. 

'He told me about a person y'know.' Hannibal remarked. One of his eyebrows raised in a playful manner. A tease.

But what was the boy talking about? 'He?'

' _Him_. Who else? About a person named Dumbledore, he told me.'

Circe, this already took a different route from his initial path. He knew this was a divergence but he was curious. 'How much did he tell you?'

An old friend visited him again. A nasty one.

 **Fear**.

Actually, he wasn't curious, he was scared. Just how much Gellert told his son? Did he tell him about _the night_? Bloody hell, he was at wits end. In all these years, he still never managed to muster up the courage to face the truth. It hurt. Ariana's name rang in his heart.

Please, not tonight. Not like this. He wasn't ready. Yet.

'He told me enough. Maybe enough for him, I guess. Father isn't the type to kiss and tell. He describes you rather fondly. I suspect, you hold a candle to his heart. _Used to_. I don't know,' 

A sense of relief washed over him and Dumbledore released his breath he never knew he held. 'How do you even know I'm this Dumbledore?' One could play dumb. 'I have yet told you my full name.'

The boy's eyes gleamed, 'Father once said, there's only one Albus in his life with twinkling eyes behind moon spectacles. Gather your wits as he's bright. You fit the type,' he later added with a touch of a flair '-Sir.' Then he laughed, amused with his own theatric.

What in Godric's name? Did Gellert's son just flirt with him? Or _for_ him?

For a moment, Gellert young image melted into Hannibal's visage, when they were still young and full of hopes and dreams. Hannibal was definitely a charmer much to his dismay, just like his father.

'This conversation is very enlightening but I'm sorry that we must put it to an end.' Wand directed to the boy's figure steadily and he also paid the same to him. Dueling sounded very appealing but tonight wasn't the night. 'Your ride left you. Come nicely.' Dumbledore held out his wandless hand. He gave a serene look with hope the boy would be convinced.

Peace needed to be shown to a cornered animal as a lure, basic knowledge.

The younger one grinned at him, 'Well, sorry about that. She's a new recruit. I'll deal with her soon.' He then did the unexpected. He pocketed his wand and stood at the edge of the rooftop where their conversation took place. Where the moon shone the brightest. Both of his hand wide opened and his eyes closed tightly. Hesitation muddled into his facial then he let his body fell on his back, off the rooftop.

Suicide?! Shit! Albus immediately did what he think first; running to him.

WHAT IN THE WORLD?!

He looked to the ground where he expected a body due for an impact. Aresto momentum spell was ready to be casted promptly. Yet, all he found was an empty spotless road. The boy apparated, mid air. Bloody hell, that was ingenious plan. He induced panic on him and he didn't even bother to stun him because he was panicking. While he was offering peace, the boy was cooking up escape plan. 

Circe, he still needed to share this to Newt and everyone else. Dearie, the outcome wouldn't be pretty.

However short this meeting was, he managed to learn three things:

One, Gellert _truly_ had a son.

Two, Hannibal didn't really know his father and he _didn't care_ about it. That was crazy. The boy was more willing to be used and molded into whatever Gellert favoured. Like a true soldier but a child. A child soldier.

Three, Dumbledore made a mistake too tonight. He thought the boy couldn't apparate since he was young, thus he didn't bother to raise an anti-apparation ward. Apparently Gellert taught his son thoroughly. 

Should he be proud? He didn't know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession:  
> 1\. Honestly, I dunno if I should put slow burn tag because idk if this fic is in that pace. Eurghhh I dunno what I'm supposed to dooooo!! Plusss previously I added a tag "grooming" but I removed it. Becauseee idk what I'm doing. Can this be considered as grooming? What is grooming anyway? I read grooming isn't a good tag. Grindelwald did teach Hannibal (Harry) to obey him but not sexually? That dude just wanted a soldier he could rely on. You get what I mean? TELLL MEEE. I'M CONFUSED.  
> 2\. I plan to update on Saturday. BUT I'M VERY SATISFIED with this chapter that I just can't wait for Saturday to come. Patience isn't my virtue. It never is. Muahahahaha  
> 3\. This chapter is 3k? I DIDN'T REALISE IT. Now it already tip the scale. Previous chapters are 1k each. :/ the imbalance...


	4. Wishes for the past, present and future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal monologues again because he thinks he's the new Hamlet. Always the dramatic, yet he's unaware of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters belong to JK Rowling and Imma just one of those who play in her castle of imagination.
> 
> P/S: Unbetaed. Please inform me if there's any error. Any constructive criticism is always welcomed!!!  
> Read the end note if you want to read my rant. End note is specifically for me to just rant. Hahahaha, such joy.

Something never changed for years. For Hannibal, everyday was just as busy. Even busier today. Last month in July, one of their office in France was compromised. An unfortunate raid happened, resulted with some casualities in a confrontation with French aurors. Everyone in the office had fought selflessly and the other side experienced losses too but the war never stopped. It kept going, only the office ceased its function. Now, they were back at Nurmengard, revising and devising plan to benefit them best.

Father said, almost two decades had passed for this war but Hannibal pondered if everybody saw the same. Maybe they thought it lasted for an eternity long. Regardless of whatever they might have thought, he'd still stay by his saviour's side, The Alliance side. 

Today supposedly no different too, just busier but there was a subtle change. 

The air felt different, lighter even. When he woke up from his sleep, he felt exceptionally good despite not knowing the reason. His father's seer sight might guide him, he made a mental note to refer to him about this. It felt too good to be true. 

Not only that, he was also bothered by an _Itch_. On his forehead. 

Today, out of all day? Seemed not good. 

Once in a while it itched, he didn't know why it did but with years he learnt to ignore it. Even so, sometimes the sensation was a tad overwhelming and his emotion effected the same. Out of habit, he tended his forehead where it once scarred by rubbing it gently. 

Stupid was he to fall on such a habit, but he couldn't help it. Oh, the woe in his life... 

Though he sometimes wondered what did it ache for? Or worse, who? 

Today was weird indeed... 

From his room he travelled to the kitchen, making himself two cups of coffee and left to a familiar office with a tray in hand. 

Without a sound as to not bother the occupant in it, he turned the knob gingerly. 

He sat next to his father in front of a round table with a gigantic map full of markings and parchments spread out on it. This was how his father's office looked like, full of things related to his war. Always thinking, always planning. Very Gellert-esque. 

Gellert noticed how Hannibal absentmindedly scratched his forehead. Such bizarre behaviour, so unbecoming for a Grindelwald. 'Must you make a habit of touching your forehead? I thought we've talked about this,' he chided in a casual tone. With coffee in hand, which Hannibal personally prepared before, he eyed him out the corner of his eyes. 

Embarrassed by his father's comment, he immediately straightened his posture once more. Hand gingerly reaching out for his cup, less coffee and loads of sugar and milk, to hide his crimson blush. 

'Sorry,' he said delicately against the rear of the cup. 

Father chuckled lightly, perhaps aware the embarrassment enveloped him, it was so obvious. Always so easy to read. The man always said that to him and he adored him for it.

There were times when he wondered how a man could be so gentle yet ruthless to those deserving his wrath. He wondered where one could quench their thirst for violence from plaguing the one they loved? More reason why he couldn't help but admire the person who practically raised him. 

Cup clinked back on the table, father turned to look at him directly. His fingers laced comfortably on his lap, making him looked welcoming. Never be fooled with his relaxed stance because inside of the man he kept on calculating diligently. Hannibal would fall for this welcomed feeling exuded from him, if only he didn't stare at him straight ahead. 

The stare was _intense_. Somehow it bothered him.

 _Did he make a mistake for this scrutinising gaze?_ He couldn't think any for now. 

Nobody could read father's action. He was a private man. An enigma. Hannibal wouldn't be surprised if enigma were to be a person, the form it embodied to be his father. For years he was aware of how puzzling his father could be but he never tried any attempts to solve him. Hannibal couldn't be bothered. 

The man cared enough for him and most importantly he named him. What else would he need? Greed wasn't a trait he wished to cultivate.

Anxiousness ate him a little when the staring didn't stop, it seemed to last forever (not true, it was only for few seconds, his mind was playing tricks on him) before his father blank face turned soft. 

A fond smile nearly sentimental looking graced at him. Any intensity and coils around them perished away as if they never existed there in the first place. Lost in the calmness in mere seconds, Hannibal gathered his wits forcefully as he could never lullabied with this change. 

That wasㅡ new?

No no no. It wasn't. Familiar scene happened before... he just needed to recall it.

Nothing good came when he started to act like this, all soft. All good. 

The last time it happened, the whole potion ordeal came out. Just what his father planned to do with him now? It must be dangerous. Like he said, nothing good came. 

In his mind, the memory still vivid when he woke up from his slumber (more likely he fainted halfway) with a thundering headache and a body that ached everywhere! It was his decision and glad to do it but he never expected how painful it could be. The pain was unbearable but it was a price he must pay, thank Flamel that he somehow managed to survive the whole process. 

Once was more than enough! Never again, he didn't want a repeat the damned process. But... if his father wished for it, then... he supposed he must do it. He'd say yes in a heartbeat. Rejection or failure wasn't an open option, never. Another price to pay as Hannibal Grindelwald and damn he couldn't be bothered with it. Better than to be a Boy for the rest of his life. 

Lots had happened in the span of 12 years he spent with his caretaker. He was 4, a beast called Petunia told him so, when his father took him in. Now he had grown into a good 15 years old along with different name which wasn't as tasteless as "Boy" or "Freak" and a different appearance.

The first time he looked into the mirror, he couldn't recognise himself. Well, there were older traits he luckily preserved, for example his green eyes though they were a little muted and a scar which later cured and some here and there old parts of him. Still, if he was to be honest with himself, he definitely appeared like a combination of three people instead of two. This feeling just glided off from his shoulder because his used-to-be parents might influence his current look as well. Nobody knew better. This whole procedure was a trial and he to put it aptly, a satisfied guinea pig. 

Overall, he looked different. Like someone else. A changed man. 

Usually people said that changes instilled fear to many but in his case he absolutely adored it. Even more so when he discovered his repaired eyesight. Once upon a time, he thought he'd go blind with all the blurry images he saw with his damaged eyes, he even contemplated whether his brain failed him in interpreting the signals through his cells or his cells were the ones failing him and at the end of the day his father saved his eyes. Now he wouldn't need to wear those contraptions called glasses.

What a bittersweet journey.

Hannibal train of thought disrupted by a huff of a breath that clearly didn't belong to him, he jolted out. Again, he got caught losing in his thought in front of his father. Obviously one mistake needed to be repeated all the time for the sake of any amusement from the above. Such a ruddy luck. And the face of his father wasn't helping either, it always made him whimsical. Just what exactly the man wore on his face?!

Frustration hit him in the face to no end. His pride... wounded. Maybe the time to actually find a safe haven for people to safekeep their pride or what left of its remnants. 

Months ago, it was his failure on being discreet while on a lookout mission with a new recruit on an American auror and their merry band including that no-maj, what was his name- Jakel? Jack or Jacob, whatever. Oh Paracelsus, what an amazing choice to include him. Somehow that bastard was so lucky to stay alive until now. Was that what his father meant by necessary burden when referred to the new-majes? Oh yes, he failed on such mission, imagined how it chipped his pride. It hurt so much.

While his failure didn't bring him further consequence due to the fact that he managed to contribute something larger previously, which proved his worth early on so others weren't so bothered by it. Adding this up and his sappy reminiscence, would it be wise for he to write letter on addressing his gratefulness to his father and some of The Alliance members who he thought as family before he died out of shame? Or was it too soon and that was a rushed decision? Good heavens.

Gellert giggled again, to many such sight was a bit strange and maybe a bit eerie, he might have done it because he could see the panicked face on Hannibal as clear as the day.

Dear dear, father giggled? Definitely not good. Too _merry_. Last letters they'd be, he thought sadly. Life was good while it lasted. Pity, it could be longer.

'You're so easy to read when you're with me. I wonder if that's a good thing for us,' Gellert's hand raised and rested it on Hannibal's head, patting it.

Soothed by the gentle ministration, Hannibal hummed in content silently. Warm, he felt warm. Even though his saviour rarely showed his tenderness even in their most private moment, he aware that the man cared. But when it occurred, he felt very thankful for that. Under the gentle touch, he didn't dare to speak.

'Good son, what would I do without you?' then he proceeded to gently stroke his son's forehead with his thumb, the place where it used to scar. 'That mysterious jagged scar of yours... healed, obviously. But do answer me truthfully son,' the tone was fatherly and the stroking didn't stop.

Bewildered with the sudden shower of affection he never used to, Hannibal asked with a stutter 'Y-yes?'

Ignoring the stutter, Gellert continued, 'Only a dark spell left such a mark. It did take a lot of effort in getting rid of it, nothing is impossible if you try hard enough. Do you... remember how you got it?'

With all the effort he possessed, he tried to recall every memory of those 4 measly years. 'They never, um, told me much-' bitterness shrouded in his response,' -except for the few details which I've told you before. Father, you know that I don't even know my birthday til you give it to me.'

Everybody had a birthday, he knew it well. Dudley celebrated his birthday every year with grand presents while he wising for a date and hoping for a piece of bloody cake and he never knew it and never got the cake. Rude. Yet his father was so kind to give him what he never had before. So, 31 July 1927 became his birthdate. 

The reason for the date? It was the day where father found him in that alley. Well, the year was 1930 and he was four at that time and well- father did his math brilliantly!

Which later in some passing moment he also expressed his budding hatred to Paris in the year of his birth, 1927. And til this day, Hannibal wasn't privy for the reason of this rather peculiar expression. What a curious coincidence.

Anywho, he was much happier here, bad memories must be forgotten. Father cracked a smile at him and he knew better that it wasn't the kind one. Reserved specifically for any mention to his so called relatives that hurt him or sometimes the no majes who were awful and father hated them, so did he.

The tender air dissipated when his father released his clutch, attention diverted to a piece of parchment of a report on his left, reading it intently. 

This war required a victor and father would stop at nothing to be one. All for freedom of magical people, so they can freely be themselves. No more hiding. A noble cause for a noble man.

While winning the war was one thing, boredom was another matter for Hannibal. He was bored. Father was very busy with his report. Attention wouldn't come to him soon. Apparently, having a Dark Lord as father didn't mean he would be joining the frontline every time. Let's not talk about how he was still learning and very much lacking in experience department, the horror.

This certainly dampened his glee from the early morning. His luck ran out. Speaking of his glee, there was a question he wanted to ask his father but he forgot about it. Whatever, he'd try to remember it later.

'Hannibal?' His father called, parchment still inside his hand. This time, he didn't even spare a glance at him. 

Glance or no glance, Hannibal obeyed still, 'Yes?'

'There are a letter and plans for our agent in the British soil. I want you to deliver it and retrieve some documents from them. Brief the head of the office about the plan and oversee the meeting so they get it right and report back to me. Don't forget to collect the report of the meeting too. Meet Vinda for the contact and further instructions. Everything is in a file, she'll give it to you. Remember, we only have just one office there. Can you do that?'

'Yes, father. Gladly.' Excitement fueled him.

A mission. Finally! Since the untimely encounter with Albus Dumbledore, father banned him from going out of the office when they were still in France, that was until it got compromised. He was basically lounging at the France's office when the aurors kicked the door. It had been 4 months since he last went out or received mission. At this point, he was getting paler without the healthy shine from the sun. And he couldn't complain. If this how his father punished him for his failure, he could do nothing about it. 

He mustn't deny him.

The world had known of his existence (and name), thanks to a certain someone.

Still, his escape was a lucky one. Fresh in his mind until now. The moment the man appeared behind him, he could spell danger. Without a doubt he could see a bad end when he encountered one. One wrong move, to the ICW he went.

Albus Dumbledore was a talented wizard, another escape from him couldn't be guaranteed. When he talked to his father about this, he simply said nonchalantly 'You're lucky to come back without a magic-restraint cuff on your wrist.' Hannibal excelled in a lot of things but parenting (which he still yet experienced it). Surely that wasn't a good way to console him right? It helped nothing either.

Here he was on that day, hoping for an extensive advice on ways to make the other man succumb but all he got was this? Fine, fair enough. At least it became his wake up call on how meager his skill to be compared to a man like Dumbledore and his father. If he were to fight a standard auror, he'd stand a plenty of chances. His confidence came mainly from the recent fight with French aurors, prison-breaking The Alliance people and along the way, burning any information about The Alliance.

Aurors must have hated him by now, his body shuddered thinking of his fate if captured. Fuck. What an uncouth mouth he had, his father would definitely frowned upon this.

So, with this spirit of war and chase, his somewhat imaginative mind generated some scenarios of what ifs which all them ended with him being imprisoned. Quite a mind he had there thus, his fairly intelligent mind made up some bollocks ideas to avoid such predicament from ever happening, which he considered them quite extensively and resulted with only one choice left; trinkets.

Not just some stupid trinket for show. A useful one. They were for the situation like: if by chance, someone with same prowess as Albus Dumbledore stumbled upon him with a no win outcome.

All of his months of doing nothing directed on this small project and he made only one. It was ready to be deployed. Father would understand if he used it. He always would. For greater good.

The sound of clothes rustled against a surface and a chair being pushed behind, allowing the figure to stand echoed in the room. Time passed quickly while he was daydreaming. His father took some parchments along with him and exited promptly for he had a meeting to attend so did Hannibal. With a sigh and dispirited excitement he followed suit, closing the door behind him with a flick of his wand.

When he arrived in the unnecessarily large room that hosted only the inner circle, all of them were present. Father was so proud to call them "acolytes", the first time of his meeting with them when he was 7. In front of them, father declared him as his son and heir to Grindelwald family and nobody questioned a thing. With years, some of them could be considered as family. Especially Vinda Rosier who she insisted on calling her Vinda. She was a constant presence since he was first introduced, acting like a mother he never had.

He loved her too the same. Somewhere in those years he tried to pair his two favourite people together but to no avail. There was an invincible wall erected around father. Like he was waiting. No need to spell it out, Hannibal knew already; Albus Dumbledore. He had his suspicions when his father told him bits of stories about his youth. The man got many mentions in them and his father beamed while telling the tale.

Well- there was also another reason to that, since father told him very little. But the next thing he knew, father told him the man and him were on separate ways. The end. No further explanation and no happy ending.

Hannibal never asked to know more, he wasn't greedy enough. Perhaps for father, he decided that he only deserved to know until that extent. Then so be it.

Despite all of that, Hannibal was 100% sure the second he knew if Dumbledore declared that he'd return to his father, he'd embrace the man again. Was that friendship or love? As usual he didn't know. But the hurt expression on Dumbledore's face that night spoke of love. Again, he didn't know the answer to that.

Though if fate allowed them to be together romantically, Hannibal had proudly prepared a name; dad. He'd call him "dad". That looked dashing. A father and a dad in his life.

With this thought he prayed a brick would fall magically on Dumbledore's head so he'd make the right decision of coming back to his father's arm faster, he prayed hard to that. Plus, he flirted the man for his father, he better not be daft to pick on the sign.

It seemed like the meeting was starting. Focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confessions:  
> 1\. I was supposed to update last week on Wednesday but something caught me off-guard. My woe in life cameee crashing down like thunderstorm. Aaahhh why is it so hard to just forget some unnecessary feelings? I don't get it. Alas, trouble finds me first before I could even finish saying "codswallop". Dem.  
> 2\. Future chapters are in blocks but... They already ran away from intended. Abernathy was supposed to be introduced in this chapter because I was so adamant on naming this chapter after him but fate be like wehehe no dude, you shan't. So, another woe in my life.


End file.
